Artist in the Ambulance
by break-my-shell
Summary: An accident in the dark. A chance encounter. Two hearts collide under the direst of circumstances and it's all just a simple blend of flashing lights and sounds. Oneshot AU. Rated T.


**A/N: This is a oneshot AU I wrote many moons ago, not entirely sure I like it all that much but I thought I would share it nonetheless. The story title comes from a song by the band Thrice, it's not necessary to listen to the song unless you desperately want to as this is not a songfic, I just happen to like the title. This story is also rated T, a novel experience for me I can assure you and represents my first foray into the AU. **

**Disclaimer: Bleach and all related characters belong to its respective owner.**

* * *

**Artist in the Ambulance**

Should he have been driving? Probably not, but then people did always make stupid decisions when they were angry or in his case furious to the point of insanity. It had been the same old shouting match over the same old argument that drove him to this.

His always uncompromising father giving rise to his even more unyielding anger. The weight of expectation, it was a hard burden to carry, and he was expected to shoulder so much of it. But with his mom gone and his sisters either being far too emotional or far too detached the mantle fell to him.

He was to be the next leader of the party, the Seireitei party, the strongest political leaders in the whole country and flourishing under his father's tutelage. Ichigo feared he would fall so abysmally and inadequately short. He wasn't the man his father was, and the more time that passed the more painfully aware of that fact he became.

"_Ichigo, don't walk away from this!" His father's tired voice shouted after him but Ichigo couldn't hear him past the pumping of blood in his ears. "Please son, this is important, to me, to the party, to all of us." Ichigo couldn't help but inwardly flinch; it was a weary argument and one that was getting old quick. His hand pushed through the orange locks on his head, a desperate move for a desperate man. _

"_But what about what's important to me old man? You never ask what I want, you never take into consideration that I might want something different for my life," Ichigo's reply was quick and petulant, but he was far past the point of caring. Fuck the party and fuck his father, he was done with this shit. _

"_Well then tell me boy, what is it that you want?" Isshin's voice had changed; gone was the exasperation, challenge making its home instead. Ichigo's hands curled into painful fists, his mouth opening just to fall shut again. "See," His father chided almost snidely. "You don't know what it is that you want. Ichigo I know this is a lot to take, but you _will_ be the next leader of this party. The sooner you accept it the happier we'll be." _

_If his father had something else to say Ichigo didn't know. He'd stormed out then, his furious footsteps carrying him into the garage of their large country estate, his shaking fingers curling around the keys of his custom built GTR, a relic of the past yes, but a worthy 23__rd__ birthday present from his father and the party. _

_He threw himself into the car, the doors closing and locking with a click behind him. He turned on the engine and flicked the button on his dash to open the double garage doors. A second later a roaring V6 peeled out into the night, the rain and the wind howling against the windows. _

The memory of the latest argument assaulted him as he flew along the country roads. He knew he shouldn't be driving; he was pissed as hell and could barely see the decrepit lanes in front of him. But he needed out, he wanted to keep going until he could go no more.

He flew round a tight corner, the rear wheels skidding slightly on the sopping loose surface. He corrected, his arms working furiously to get the flying engine under control. He was being brash and reckless but he welcomed the thrill of the speed and the danger it brought with it.

The weather outside was horrid and torrential, the tail end of a hurricane sweeping across the countryside. He welcomed the rain, it matched the torment in his soul so perfectly, and the thundering winds the anguish in his heart.

He hated this place, he hated the party, he hated that after the wars and global warming and natural disasters that had led to the world becoming as fucked up as it was, that his father's party were now in the ruling majority. But then it was easy to be when there was no opposition.

Was it a dictatorship? No one was sure, after all Seireitei ran a peaceful regime. There was food in every home, free medical care for everyone and no one was poor, and no one was without a job. But then it was easy to maintain peace and the illusion of it when you had your own personal army, death gods, the Shinigami patrolling every street.

Ichigo didn't want to be the next face of this party. He didn't want to have the burden of leadership when he felt that the leadership itself was more puppet than substance. He didn't want to be called the next Soutaichou like his father was, like old man Yama was before that. He wanted to be free. But then again, in this world, freedom was just the next big illusion right up there behind peace.

He pressed his foot harder against the gas pedal the powerful engine responding to his heavy tread, the speedometer creeping past 100mph. He was nearing the city, it was hard to tell through the rain pounding against the window and through the dark but he was nearly there. He had to be. The lights of it shone like a beacon of hope against the night and they got brighter with every roaring metre.

A few seconds later he overtook a slower moving electric car in front of him, the silver vehicle a blur as he raced past, the GTR slipping and sliding through the next corner. But then the world froze and his heart with it. He was closer to the city than he thought a set of traffic lights at a major junction suddenly appearing out of nowhere.

He cursed himself for not noticing sooner his foot instantly pressing against the brake pedal, his arms fastening in place on the steering wheel. He waited for the car to respond, to slow itself but it just kept going. His brakes locked, the water beneath the car slicker than ice. He heard the tyres squeal as the red lights loomed before him and he couldn't do anything else but close his eyes and spin the wheel, his world going black.

* * *

It was late, impossibly so, her shift drawing to a close, less than an hour and a half to go. Thankfully at this time in the morning the chance of a call out was almost non-existent, it was just a waiting game before she could leave. She rested her feet on the table in front of her, her hands pushed into the jacket wrapped tightly around her petite body. It was cold tonight, the weather doing nothing to help. She was pulling a double shift and fatigue was starting to set into her bones like rot.

But here in the Republic of Karakura the emergency services didn't sleep. "Help for all" was the motto stamped across the crest on her jacket. Help for all yes, but the government liked to forget they weren't machines but people who needed rest to function.

She'd never complain about it though, the last guy she'd seen make a fuss about the amount of hours he was excepted to work had been carted away by the Shinigami, never to be heard from again.

"Hey Rukia you want a coffee?" A low gruff voice asked her. Her eyes snapped up to the speaker, dark violet meeting with deep brown. Her shift partner Renji stood beside her his hands hooked around his belt.

"Only if you're making," She replied with an easy shrug her hand absentmindedly tugging on the edges of her dark green jacket. Renji smirked back before heading in the direction of the staff kitchen. They were alone right now, the other graveyard shift workers out on a call.

A few minutes later Renji returned with two steaming mugs, her cold fingers closing gratefully around the one he offered her. She had just brought the bitter tasting drink to her lips when the radio attached to her shoulder squawked into life.

"Unit 7-8 this is dispatch what's your status? Over," The muffled voice crackled. She rolled her eyes before her eyebrows creased together in a rough scowl. Renji sighed somewhere beside her, his mug abandoned beside the one she had just set down.

"Dispatch this is 7-8 we're back at base awaiting further instructions, over," Rukia said into the receiver her fingers pressed against the black plastic, an annoying lock of black hair slipping into her eyes.

"7-8 an EMS is requested at the junction of Getsuga and Tenshō, RTA reported, one casualty, Shinigami on scene, over" The voice said. Rukia sighed wearily and pushed herself to her feet.

"Understood dispatch we're on our way, over and out," She released her hold on the radio and looked in the direction of Renji.

"Guess it's time we go earn our pay," He said almost sarcastically but not quite he couldn't cross that line, his hands mechanically pulling up the zip of his jacket. She nodded once not bothering to reply.

They both walked in silence to the door, pushing it open into the garage. Rukia reached the ambulance first, climbing gracefully into the driver's seat as Renji jumped in beside her. She switched the engine on and flicked on the sirens, the heady roar of emergency alarms blaring into life around them. A second later she stepped on the gas and pulled out into the storming night. Very few people had combustion engines in their vehicles anymore, everything was electric, only the state services and the wealthy could afford the gas. Though this paramedic rig she commandeered felt as worn and overworked as she did.

"Shit this weather is awful," Renji mused lightly beside her, squinting in the dark in a futile effort to see through the rain. Rukia ignored him, concentrating instead on reaching their destination in one piece. The rain and the wind battering the truck without mercy. A few minutes later additional flashing lights signalled that they had arrived at their journey's end.

She pulled over in front of the Shinigami squad car, a sleek black vehicle built for speed and stealth that was currently stopping any non-existent traffic from getting in the way. She switched of the engine and climbed out of the truck as Renji jumped into the back heading for the emergency bags.

"Hey heads up paramedics are here," one of the Shinigami called out behind him, his voice loosing some of its strength in the torrential downpour. Rukia looked in the direction he had shouted her stomach instantly tightening at the scene in front of them. A car, looked like a grey GTR, a vehicle no longer in production, had come off the road and landed upside down the front of it mangled beyond recognition. The other Shinigami was crouched on the wet ground beside the vehicle.

"What's the situation?" She asked striding towards the first death god, Renji following faithfully behind her, his hands holding their packs.

"Car came of the road and rolled a few times, before coming to a stop. The driver is conscious but in a lot of pain, he seems lucid enough though. Hisagi has been talking to him," The younger man said nodding his blonde head in the direction of his partner.

Both Shinigami were a friend of Renji's, Izuru Kira was the distressed looking man in front of them and Shūhei Hisagi was the serious looking black haired one with an interesting array of facial tattoos. Both dressed in black uniforms and both were armed to the teeth.

Rukia nodded her head in Izuru's direction before leading both Renji and herself in the direction of the wreck. Hisagi said something into the window before he stood up to greet them.

"Wanted to climb in and help him but the front's too mangled for me to fit. Fire departments on their way but it might be too late by the time they get here, this guy might not make it," Hisagi said glancing back to the car. Rukia's eyes trailed over the wreck, the faint outline of the driver just visible through the pouring rain.

"We need in there to do an assessment," Renji grumbled his brown eyes calculating every angle, just as hers had done a second before. "But I won't fit either."

"I'll go," Rukia said simply her hand reaching out for one of the large green bags. Renji fixed his eyes on her, the worry etched onto his face.

"Be careful, you don't know how bad it is in there," he said and she resisted the urge to get angry. She knew all that, she wasn't an idiot.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing," She replied tersely grabbing the bag from him. She crossed the distance to the car assessing the situation. The front end was completely smashed, glass and debris littering the road. She'd have to go in through the back by climbing through one of the broken windows.

She walked to the rear of the vehicle and grabbed the handle of the mangled passenger door. She used it for leverage as she lowered herself to the ground. She threw her bag in first before fully dropping to her knees and crawling into the wreckage, the glass from the broken windows cutting into her purple nitrile gloves.

"Hey, be careful, don't hurt yourself," A tired voice wheezed at her from the front of the car and she had to resist the urge to laugh. This guy had no place telling her not to hurt herself when the smell of_ his _blood was already hitting her nose.

"It's okay, take it easy. My name is Rukia, I'm a paramedic, I just need to assess your injuries," She said patiently, pushing the bag onto the floor beside him before hauling herself over the seats and climbing into the passenger side.

She paused for a second to get her bearings, moving as much as she could in the tightly cramped space, anyone bigger than her would be screwed, her small frame proving advantageous for a change. Finally she shifted her gaze to her patient her breath catching in her throat as she did.

He was lying in a pool of glass and blood, the roof of the car becoming his bed. He obviously released his seatbelt but the front of the car was too badly damaged for him to open the doors and get out, his injuries clearly preventing him from climbing into the back.

But it wasn't the pained look on his face that got to her, nor was it the way his skin was pale white and tinged with green. No, it was his deep amber eyes that assaulted her, so molten dark and foreboding with just the teasing hint of something gentler underneath. Her whole body prickled with heat, something unidentifiable coiling in the pit of her stomach.

He was beautiful. Even bloodied. His hair messy and flattened against his skull, the soaked locks a vibrant shade of flammable orange. His skin was flawless except for the cuts and the blood, his shoulders were broad and defined, lean muscles visible even through his ruined jacket.

What was worse though was that she knew him. Well she recognised his face at any rate. It was Ichigo Kurosaki, the heir to the Seireitei party; the leading political group in the republic the guy was practically a prince. But why was he here looking like his world had ended?

Her eyes glanced down at his strong hands, noting with a faint grimace the dark stain of blood coating them, his fingers tight around the sharp metal shard pressed into his stomach. She looked back up and their eyes met, the world slowing as they did.

* * *

He wasn't aware of much, just the sound of sirens and a man's voice telling him help was on the way. He had felt the pain in his stomach, the wrenching stab of _ache_, he knew that something had pierced him and he knew that no matter what happened he couldn't pull it out. He had released his belt, landing in a pile of glass and mangled dashboard, his whole body screaming in protest.

Time seemed to go still before he heard a new voice, a woman's or an angels he wasn't quite sure. He was vaguely aware of someone climbing into the car, a garbled warning of caution escaping him without thought. Then he wasn't alone any longer, the angel was with him, their bright violet eyes filled with fire raking over every inch of his ailing form.

"Can you tell me your name?" The female paramedic asked, strands of her raven black hair hanging loosely around her face. Her hands reached for him, careful and capable fingers delicately testing his pulse checking him over for injuries. He couldn't tear his eyes away from her face.

"I-Ichigo," He stuttered, not sure if it was from her close proximity or from the pain hitting him. He couldn't believe he was probably going to die and he'd just met the most important person in his life. He'd never believed in love at first sight until this exact moment. He was dying to know did she feel the same.

"Okay Ichigo, can you tell me what happened?" She asked patiently her hands reaching into her bag to pull out an oxygen mask.

"Speeding, couldn't stop, car flipped in the rain," His answer was relayed in short aching gasps his lungs straining for air.

"I'm going to put this mask over your face it'll help you breathe better okay Ichigo?" She asked, reaching forward to slip the mask around his head, her gloved hands gliding over his skin. She tightened the mask behind his head the oxygen getting to work almost immediately, his whole body sagging sluggishly.

She leaned forward again, her body inching closer to his, her fingers pressing against his chest as she examined him. He heard the rip of material as she cut open his shirt, he almost wanted to feel embarrassed at being half naked in front of her but the oxygen was making him lethargic.

He watched her as she worked methodically, dressings being applied to minor wounds, her hands moving swiftly, her eyes glancing reassuringly back up to his every so often.

"You're doing really well Ichigo, but you've lost quite a bit of blood and you're going to need emergency surgery to remove this shrapnel," She said not bothering to mince her words. He liked that, he appreciated it, he also wished he knew more about her but now really wasn't the time that for.

"Where else do you hurt?" She asked her voice patient, deep and alto, filling his ears, he could hear the strength in her tone, the fire she danced with. She wasn't just a healer, she was an artist, sculpting him like a work of art.

"Everywhere," He mumbled through the mask, her raised eyebrow forcing a choked laugh from his lips.

"Careful," She scolded lightly reaching forward to steady him in place, her hands solid against his chest.

"My legs hurt," He managed to say after a few pained wheezes. Her eyes immediately dropped to them her hands leaving his torso to feel across his thighs and calves. Her touch was so strong and so perfect and in any other situation he knew he'd be feeling completely different but the pain and the fear were too great.

"You have a broken femur and possibly a fractured pelvis. We won't know until we get you out of here. I'm also diagnosing you with a suspected collapsed lung and concussion so no more joking around okay?" She said with a small smile, one that looked so flawless on her beautiful face but she looked ill at ease, like she hardly ever did it. He nodded his head, his hand resting against the face mask.

"What age are you?" She asked after a few moments of silence, one of her hands pressed around a dressing on his wounded stomach.

"23, you?" He choked back, his voice muffled through the mask. He knew what she was doing, keeping him talking, keeping him lucid so that he didn't fall asleep and never wake up again.

"I'm 25. Why were you speeding? Were you trying to get somewhere or get away from somewhere?" She asked softly, did paramedics normally ask that? Surely it wasn't in their job description?

"Away. My father, I-I can't be what they want," He replied quietly his head resting against the ruined steering wheel. The paramedic, Rukia she'd said her name was shifted closer, her free hand closing around his, the heat through her gloves almost unbearable.

"I know about expectation. It's hard to live with, but at least its living. Do me a favour, when you get better tell your father how you feel and work out what it is that you want, alright? Don't live your life for someone else, it's your life after all," She told him, her hands still pressed against his wounds. She was keeping him up and keeping him together, he'd never, never met anyone like her and he was scared that was all about to end.

He was about to reply when the roar of new sirens caused them both to jump slightly. Rukia glanced out through the cracked window, a look of relief washing over her face.

"The fire department are here, they're going to get you out then we'll get you to hospital okay? Just hang in there with me Ichigo," She said letting go of him slightly to move away.

"Don't leave me," He gasped suddenly, his hand snapping out to her wrist. She glanced down at his long and bloodied fingers wrapped around her pale skin before looking up at him again.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," She smiled that small smile again and moved closer.

She pressed the back of his head against her chest as the fire department starting shouting around them, the sounds of machinery filling the night air. She held him comfortably close one hand holding the shrapnel in place the other keeping him awake with her fingers in his hair. He wondered if she did this for all the patients she had or was he as special to her as she was to him, even though they'd just met.

Several long and painfully agonising minutes later he was freed, the fire fighters and the other paramedic, a young man with red hair and tattoos, helping to secure him. The girl climbed out behind him, her jacket stained with motor oil and his blood. She kept close to him, keeping pressure on his wound.

"Renji you drive," She barked at the other paramedic before she helped the fire fighters to carry him on a stretcher to the back of the ambulance. She jumped in first to prepare the space for them as the fire fighters lifted him up, but it was then that things took a turn for the worse.

The shrapnel in his stomach suddenly moved, slipping out of him with a pained shout, the metal hitting the floor as his warm blood suddenly coated him with a sickening earnest the plug well and truly removed.

"No! Be careful!" He heard the girl shout before the world swam in front of him. He felt warm hands press against the flowing wound in his stomach. "Fuck, fuck!" The girl growled somewhere to his right, her strong form wavering in his blurring sight.

He heard the slam of doors and the roar of engine and siren as the ambulance came to life. Rukia knelt beside him, one hand attempting to hold his blood inside his body, the other hand reaching for various medications, jabbing needle after needle into his abused skin in a desperate attempt to keep him alive.

"Renji drive faster, I'm losing him back here!" He heard her shout, leads being placed onto his bare skin, the frantic beeping of an ECG flaring into life. He knew this was it, all the regrets that he had pouring through him in his final minutes. The girl came into focus, her breath-taking violet eyes holding him to the end.

"Come on Ichigo, stay with me here," She almost begged her lips pulled taut. One of his hands lazily slapped against his oxygen mask, blood loss and exhaustion making him slow. He slipped the plastic of his face as he stared up at her, his guardian angel. The artist in the ambulance.

"You know you're really beautiful," He practically slurred cursing how stupid it sounded, he wanted to make it more romantic but it was difficult while bleeding out.

"Thanks you're not so bad yourself," She said back only the faintest tinge of pink on her cheeks, her whole body jumping at the chance to keep him lucid and awake.

"If I make it out alive, I'd really like to buy you a coffee," He said his other hand grazing the back of hers pressed against his abdomen. Her throat visibly swallowed, her jaw tensing, the tendons in her graceful neck standing out.

"_When_, you recover come and find me, I'll let you buy me one," She said with a pained smile, the muscles in her face working furiously as she tried to reign in her emotions. He smiled back his hand tightening ever so slightly on hers. She was the last thought on his mind as he passed out, darkness claiming him once more.

* * *

Over a month had passed since that night in the rain, when she met someone she never thought was possible. Rukia had never believed in love at first sight until that moment, even now the memory of those amber eyes haunted her. But that was all in the past, it was not meant to be and it was time to move on. At least that was what she'd been telling herself but inside she felt like she was going crazy.

She was nearing the end of her shift, Renji and her both escorting an elderly patient to hospital after they had a fall in their state run care home. Once this was done, she'd be clocking out and taking a few well-deserved days of holiday, a 'present' from the party, there were no personal days otherwise. It had been a long time coming but she had things she needed to finally get her head around. A politician's son with bright orange hair chief among them.

They dropped the patient of and she drove them back to the waiting station, Renji making boring small talk as she simply nodded along. Finally they pulled in for the night or was it morning? The stroke of 0630 painfully heavy on her watch. She parked up and jumped out of the truck, her hand rubbing at the stiff muscles along her neck.

It had always amazed her how life moved so quickly on, each day passing like the last the futility and finality of it all a hard pill to swallow sometimes. She and Renji grabbed their bags from their lockers before bidding goodnight to the other paramedics. Then they walked side-by-side back into the main room. Renji waved to her before leaving to talk to some of the other paramedics who were just starting their shifts. She walked on alone.

Her eyes caught sight of amber almost immediately her feet coming to an unsteady stop. A tall figure, lean and muscular and draped over crutches caught sight of her, a shy smile quirking on a beautiful set of lips.

"Uh hey," a gruff male voice said unsurely, a hand raking through messy orange hair. Rukia's eyes latched onto his amber ones and just like that moment four weeks ago, she felt that same sensation coursing through her veins and she knew in that moment that he was feeling the exact same thing. How she knew, she had no idea.

"It's good to see you on your feet, well, on one of them at any rate," Rukia said dryly pointing at the cast on his foot. He smirked back shifting a little on his crutches. She glanced up at his face, their eyes dancing with each other in a way she'd never felt before. He smiled again his look one of longing, a strange expression for someone she'd just met. She moved a little towards him, her body straining without thought.

"I know it's early but uh, I was wondering, if you're free, could I um, maybe buy you that coffee, since I made it and all," He dropped his gaze to his feet, his cheeks flushed in the early morning sunlight streaming through the windows. She felt her lips quirk as she walked forward, her arm slipping through his surprising them both.

"Sure, I'd like that, let's go," She said with the same soft smile on her face, her whole body heating under his now heavy gaze. She let him hold onto her shoulder, using her body as the other half of his crutch both of them walking out into the faint sunlight together, the next few days promising to be good ones.

In the end that was all it took, an accident in the dark, a chance encounter, and the collision of two hearts under the direst of circumstances. It was just a blend of flashing lights and sounds, an artist and her ambulance.

* * *

**I hope you enjoyed. Thank you for reading - Badaax **


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